


and i want you right here

by shybear_styles



Series: i'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me [6]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Domestic Boyfriends, Especially Max, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Monza 2020, but we love him a lot, charles is dumb, covid exists, soft boys in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:47:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shybear_styles/pseuds/shybear_styles
Summary: Tomorrow Max will drive Charles to the hospital himself, fans and journalists and PR teams be damned, but for now, he holds his boyfriend close and enjoys this moment of peace and comfort with the man he loves.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
Series: i'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982944
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	and i want you right here

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in 2020, after Monza when Charles nearly gave me a heart attack after crashing in the Parabolica.
> 
> I wanted some fluffy boyfriends in love and it led to this mess. I have no excuses, okay?

If the race restrictions caused by the pandemic brought one good thing, it’s the absence of fans in the paddock. As much as Max and all the other drivers enjoy the energy that having an audience during a race gives, there’s no doubt that being able to walk around freely without being stopped for pictures and questions every 5 seconds is much better.

Even the press is much calmer, mostly sticking to their designated areas and giving the drivers plenty of space. Max particularly enjoys it because it gives him even more freedom to sneak around the paddock with Charles.

They spent the almost four months of lockdown with pretty much only each other for company in their home, with rare visits to Charles’ family since they also live in Monaco; Max missed his family like crazy, especially after Vic found out about her pregnancy, and it was incredibly hard to not just jump in the car and drive all the way to the Netherlands, lockdown and closed borders be damned.

But they got through it, and as impossible as it sounds, it brought them even closer together. Going back to racing and having to spend so much time away from each other, not even being allowed to stay in the same room due to the team bubbles was awful and was probably the reason why Max decided to buy his own private jet, so they could have as much time together when free from their duties and go wherever they want, whenever they feel like it.

It’s impulsive and over the top, and the way Charles looked at him like he’s crazy when he heard about it made the Dutchman a little self-conscious, but when the younger man heard the real reason he actually teared up, so Max figured that it was okay.

He’s brought out of his memories by GP knocking shoulders with him, saying he’s sorry about the race, but Max can only remember the clipped tone of the older man’s voice when he told him there was a red flag caused by Charles crashing. The same bone-deep chill goes down his spine just thinking about that moment and he still has no idea how he managed to get the car in one piece back to the pit lane, even after he was calmly reassured that his boyfriend was okay and out of his.

He rushed to the Red Bull garage as soon as he could and felt his heart actually stop watching the replay of the crash; that useless fucking excuse of a car that Ferrari shoved Charles and Sebastian inside this year was already giving both drivers enough stress, but the way both cars completely gave up in _Monza,_ of all places, is like a cosmic joke. The way Charles was thrown against the barrier at full speed was horrifying and Max is going to have strong words with him about the way he just jogged away from the wreck like a complete fucking idiot, what the actual fuck was he thinking?

He tried to focus back on the race, especially after learning about Lewis’ penalty; Charles was okay, as far as the teams knew, and he needed to think about his own race.

But then their shitty engine fucked him over _again_ and he had to retire.

He shrugs at GP, not really in the mood to talk about it but knowing that he’ll have to give at least a few interviews in minutes. He spots Vicky making her way over to him, his cap and phone in her hands and he reaches for the latter as soon as she gets close enough, barely mumbling a “thank you” before unlocking it.

He finds a few texts from Charles already waiting for him and breathes a little easier once he reads them.

_i’m okay, please don’t worry  
_ _ferrari dragged me back to the medical center after i gave a few interviews and they want me to stay here, but i’m fine  
_ _i’m sorry about your race_

**_monza is never good for red bull, i’m not surprised  
_** **_are you sure you’re okay?_ **

He debates asking about his harebrained run from the car, but decides to save that for later.

_i’m fine, mon amour  
_ _go, you have interviews to give  
_ _i love you_

**_i love you too_  
** **_call me when you’re released, i’m driving us back to the hotel_ **

He shoves his phone back in his pockets and follows Vicky to the media pen, spewing the usual speech about how it’s a shame, and he could have scored some points for the team today, but unfortunately these things happen in the sport. It’s all bullshit and he’s definitely skipping the debrief today.

The Dutchman makes his way to his driver’s room to watch the last of the race and is surprised to see that Pierre is managing to hold on to the first place. That’s an unlikely podium, if he’s ever seen one. He watches as his friend crosses the finish line, beyond thrilled for him for accomplishing a race win in a midfield car after everything he went through in the previous year. He can only imagine how all the podium finishers are feeling right now.

He’s smiling as he watches the Frenchman’s celebration, AlphaTauri screaming with happiness for their driver as he jumps on them. Romain gets practically shoved away by a flash of red and Max can’t hold back a chuckle; of course Charles would make a dramatic entrance to congratulate his best friend. They hug for a couple of seconds and Max runs his eyes over as much of his boyfriend as he can, trying to see even through the screen if he has any visible bruises or is walking strangely, to no success.

The Monegasque disappears again and Max settles to watch the podium, determined to track Pierre down afterwards to congratulate him and then get the hell out of the paddock with Charles. His skin is itching with the urge to see his boyfriend with his own eyes, hold him and make sure that the other driver truly is okay.

As soon as the podium ceremony ends, Max picks up his things and heads to the media pen to talk to Pierre, exchanging a quick hug with his friend and promising to talk to him later. He’s making his way to the parking lot when his phone vibrates in his pocket with a message from Charles.

_i’m free when you are_

**_fucking finally  
_** **_meet me at the parking lot_ **

_you know that i’ve got a car, right?_

**_yes, and i’m driving it_ **

_are you even allowed to drive a ferrari?_

**_you better pray that no one from red bull sees me_ **

_i’m more worried about someone taking a picture  
_ _i can drive myself back, i told you i’m okay_

**_absolutely not  
_** **_parking lot, leclerc. now._ **

_bossy  
_ _you know i like that_

Max is glad for the mask and cap hiding the stupid look on his face as he makes his way to the flashy Ferrari that Charles is driving around this weekend. It’s true that if so much as a blurry picture of him driving that car appeared online Christian might actually strangle him, but people are completely focused on the winners and the windows are tinted enough to hide whoever is inside. There’s no way he’s allowing Charles behind that wheel and he’s not trusting anyone else with the Monegasque right now.

He leans against the passenger side, crossing his arms and looking around to make sure that no one will see them leave; unsurprisingly, everyone is still running around the paddock either wrapping things up or following the podium finishers, so he’s confident that they’ll manage to sneak off.

“Hey, handsome.” Charles’ voice comes from his right and he whips his head to look at him. The other man is wearing sunglasses and a mask, but the smile is clear in his voice.

“Hey there, beautiful.” Max replies, frowning when he sees how the Monegasque’s steps are a little uneven. “You said that you were okay.”

“And I am, I’m just sore.” Charles looks around before stopping in front of him and reaching for one of his hands, grasping it tightly. “I promise, I just need to take it easy for a couple of days and I’ll be good as new.”

Max isn’t convinced, but he nods.

“Alright, give me the key.”

“Max…” 

“Don’t whine, there is no way that I’m letting you drive today. The sooner you hand it to me, the sooner we’ll get to the hotel and will be able to rest. If you’re good, I’ll even draw you a bath.” The Dutchman bargains and holds out his free hand.

“Will you get in with me?” Charles asks cheekily and Max really wants to kiss him.

The Ferrari driver reaches into his pocket and takes out the key, handing it over to Max with a mumbled “fine”. The older man unlocks the car and holds the door open, gaze sharpening when he sees how Charles tenses up and grabs the door for support, furrowed brows visible even with the sunglasses.

He waits for Charles to settle before closing the door, looking around again before walking to the driver’s side and getting in the car. 

“Did they give you anything for the pain?” He asks as soon as they start moving, making their way out of the parking lot and alternating his gaze between Charles and the street. They’re both staying at the same hotel in Milan, about 20 minutes away from the track, and even though they’re not technically allowed to share a room due to the bubbles determined by the FIA, someone would have to drag Max’s cold dead body to get him away from the other driver for the next couple of days.

“Just regular pain killers… Anything stronger would have to be approved by the FIA, and they want me to go to a hospital tomorrow for some more tests. They don't think anything is wrong!” He rushes to add when Max turns to look at him, eyes wide. “But they want to be sure, it was a pretty strong impact.”

“And you jogging away from it probably didn’t help.” He scolds.

“Max, c’mon,” He can _feel_ Charles rolling his eyes. “I wasn’t going to wait by my wrecked car until someone came over to pick me up.”

“And you couldn’t _walk_?” 

He doesn’t look over, but hears Charles sigh. The younger man reaches for Max’s hand, lacing their fingers together and pulls it towards him.

“I probably should have done that, yes, but I wasn’t exactly thinking straight at that moment. I’m sorry.” He raises their joined hands to press a kiss on Max’s.

“I get it,” The Red Bull driver concedes, squeezing Charles’ hand. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

They stay quiet the rest of the way to the hotel, hands clasped together unless Max needs it to steer, seeking the comfort of each other’s touch as much as they can until they get to Charles’ room.

The younger man has a parking space in the hotel garage, thanks to Ferrari, so they don’t have to risk running into some eager fans in the lobby, riding the elevator straight to the VIP floor - because of course Ferrari also booked the VIP suites for their drivers and management. The Monegasque still doesn’t look completely steady on his feet, so Max places a hand on the small of his back as soon as they step out of the elevator, staying close in case he falters.

They remove their masks before the door even finishes closing, throwing them on the table by the entrance along with Charles’ sunglasses and Max’s hat and bag and the older driver reaches for his boyfriend immediately, enveloping him in his arms and pressing their bodies together as tightly as he dares without knowing how bruised the other man is. He can feel how Charles’ body relaxes slightly as he hugs Max back, hands grasping the fabric of his shirt.

“Fuck, I needed this,” Max says, reaching up to tangle his fingers in Charles’ soft hair and turning his head to press kisses to the side of his face. “I was so fucking worried when GP told me you had a big crash, _schatje._ I couldn’t even think, I have no idea how I got the car back to the pit lane in one piece.”

“I’m sorry,” Charles says softly and presses their faces together, nose bumping against Max’s cheek. “They’re not even completely sure about what happened, the rear just went away and I couldn’t control it. I said it was my fault in the interview, but I really don’t think it was this time, but I couldn’t pile even more shit on the team.”

As much as he hates how Charles is taking the blame for something that wasn’t his fault, Max is so fucking proud of him for at least admitting to himself that this isn’t on him; Charles’ penchant for self-flagellation is the source of much frustration for Max, and has even caused the occasional fight, but even if this is a small moment, it shows how the Monegasque is slowly getting better when it comes to his self-worth.

Max pulls back a little to look at Charles and the Ferrari driver’s hand comes up to cradle his face gently. Without the mask and the sunglasses, it’s clear that his face is even paler than usual, the bags under his eyes that got even worse since the season began a stark contrast.

“Are you okay? And I don’t mean physically, I know you’re going to say that you’re fine and I’m going to check that myself, but like… Are you feeling alright after crashing?” He sounds so fucking awkward, but he needs to ask.

They just went through the anniversary of Anthoine’s death and both Charles and Pierre struggled to deal with that on top of everything else that has happened in the last few months. Having such a big accident so close to that date must have rattled him somehow.

“I’m not sure,” He replies honestly. “I was a little shaky for a while after it happened and I’m sure it wasn’t just from the adrenaline, but I don’t think it fully registered yet.”

“I’m here, okay? For whatever you need.” Max says earnestly and watches a smile bloom on his boyfriend’s beautiful face.

“I know, my love. And you know I appreciate it more than I’ll ever be able to put into words.” He leans forward to press a kiss on the corner of Max’s lips. “And I’m really sorry for scaring you. I know I make some stupid decisions sometimes, specially lately, but I would never willingly put you through that worry.”

The word “Spain” goes unsaid, but hangs heavily between them; Charles’ reckless decision to drive with his seatbelt undone was the cause of their most recent fight and it took a few days for them to go back to normal, Max’s anger and Charles’ regret at the risk he took making things tense between them when they should be enjoying their days off at home.

“I know, baby.” He presses their lips together, holding the younger man close and basking in the feel of him in his arms.

They pull away after some time and Max smiles at him, squeezing his boyfriend’s waist gently before pulling away.

“C’mon, I promised you a bath. Are you in pain? Do you want more pain killers?”

“ _Non, amour._ I have to wait a couple of hours to take them, and I think the bath will help more than that right now.” Charles replies and grabs Max’s hand to pull him towards the bathroom, both of them kicking their shoes off.

The Monegasque leans on the counter while Max moves to fill up the tub with hot water, throwing in a nice smelling salt given by the hotel, and as soon as the water starts running the older man joins him. He can’t stop touching Charles, some part of him needing the contact to settle his nerves after what happened. They stay pressed together in comfortable silence until the tub is almost full, and then Max reaches for the hem of Charles’ shirt.

“Need some help with that?”

“Probably.” Charles says ruefully and stands up straight.

The Dutchman is as gentle as possible, but Charles still winces when he needs to raise both arms to get rid of the shirt; there’s a painful looking bruise on his left shoulder, probably from hitting it against the car when it crashed. Helping Charles out of his pants and underwear is equally difficult, his legs sore from the impact and he needs to hold onto Max’s shoulder to stay standing. But they manage, the Ferrari driver trying to help Max undress as well and being chided softly.

Max steps inside first to support his boyfriend, arm firmly wrapped around his waist to get him in safely. Charles can’t hold back a pained moan when he starts lowering his body and Max winces in sympathy, taking as much of the other man’s weight as possible to help him.

“Fuck,” The Monegasque exclaims when he’s fully seated, eyes closed and face twisted in pain. Max sits down behind him and moves Charles back until he can settle between his legs, back resting against Max’s chest.

“I’m sorry, babe. You’ll feel better soon, the hot water will help.” He reassures, caressing as much of Charles’ body as he can reach to try and comfort him.

“You hate hot water,” The younger man says after a few moments, body gradually relaxing.

“I don’t enjoy it as much as you do, but this is the best thing for you right now, so I don’t mind.” Max presses a kiss on Charles’ shoulder and wraps his arms around him.

“I wish we could go home.” Charles says in a low voice, placing his hands on top of Max’s.

“Me too, angel. Just one more week and we can go,” He reassures the younger man. “And then you’ll be able to escape from Ferrari’s incompetence for at least a few days.”

“Don’t remind me,” Charles groans and pushes his face against the side of Max’s neck. “God only knows what they’re going to come up with for the celebration in Florence next Saturday, but I know it’s going to be embarrassing.” Max can’t hold back a laugh and Charles whines. “Stop laughing, Max. My suffering isn’t funny.”

“It kind of is, _liefje._ I’m sorry, but you know I’m right.”

Charles huffs, but presses a kiss on Max’s neck before facing forward again.

Tomorrow Max will drive Charles to the hospital himself, fans and journalists and PR teams be damned, but for now, he holds his boyfriend close and enjoys this moment of peace and comfort with the man he loves.


End file.
